


The Bath Song

by flyingblackhawk



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Barton Family, Fluff, Fluffy towels, Multi, Protective Clint Barton, barton family ot3, clint/nat/laura, everything is hc fluff, farm goodness, fluffy babies, fluffy fluffy fluff, hot baths fix everything, laura is maternal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 02:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingblackhawk/pseuds/flyingblackhawk
Summary: When something terrible happens to his partner, Clint Barton knows only one person who can always fix everything: his wife, Laura.





	The Bath Song

“Tash.”

Nothing.

“Natasha.”

She won’t answer him. She hasn’t answered him for almost an hour, not since they landed. She’s still in her tac gear, still refusing to let him inspect her for injuries. He can’t even get her out of the quinjet. He doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has shut him out before, sure. But this seems different. 

His phone rings. Clint figures he can take the call, seeing as Nat isn’t about to talk to him. He leaves her where she is, sitting in the copilot’s seat of the jet.

“Hello,” he mumbles. 

“Clint?”

“Hey, Laura,” he breathes. “Sorry. I meant to call.” 

“Well, you answered the phone. That’s a good sign.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Is Nat alright?”

“She’s alive.” 

“What happened?”

He hesitates. “I don’t… I’m not sure. It was bad. She won’t talk to me.” 

There’s static as Laura hums thoughtfully. 

“What do I do?” he asks. He knows she can hear the exhaustion in his voice, he knows she’ll be worried. He can’t help it. He needs his wife to tell him what to do. 

“Come home,” she says. “Bring Nat.”

It’s all he needs. He reaches over and buckles her into her seat. She barely seems to register him doing it, but her eyes are still open. He almost wishes she would sleep. 

The journey home is long, and she dozes on and off, always waking with a start, still recoiling whenever Clint reaches out to touch her. 

When he lands, the sun is just setting. He considered circling for a while until the kids were asleep, but they don’t have the fuel for that, and he’s about to fall asleep himself. So he lands, and opens the ramp. Laura climbs into the jet as he unbuckles his harness. 

“Hey,” she murmurs, kissing him on the cheek. Her focus immediately goes to Natasha, slumped in her seat, staring vacantly out the windshield. 

“Let’s get her inside,” Laura says. “Come on.” 

Clint reaches out for his partner, and she recoils. Laura jumps, then moves around in front of her seat, awkwardly clambering around the controls. 

“Nat,” she says, loudly. “It’s me. Come on. We need to get you inside, okay?”

Natasha’s eyes flicker to Laura, then back to the view outside. She says nothing, but she relaxes minutely, and Laura nods at her husband. 

Clint unbuckles Natasha’s harness, and they half-lift her out of the seat. She walks, stumbling slightly, carried between them, and she doesn’t protest or pull away. Clint knows she must be as exhausted as he is. 

“It’s bath time,” Laura says. “The kids are upstairs.”

“Want me to stay down here with Nat?” he asks. Laura considers it. The kids have seen worse than this, a fact that makes them both feel immensely guilty. 

“Let me go talk to them,” she decides. “Then bring her up to the bathroom. It’s warm, and maybe seeing the kids will help.” 

Clint nods, and stands there awkwardly with his partner’s arm still slung around his shoulders. She’s not protesting his touch anymore, which makes him feel a little better, but she’s still vacantly staring, not making eye contact, and still tense. Clint hears muffled voices upstairs, and then Laura calls his name. Carefully, he helps Natasha up the stairs and into the bathroom, where his whole family is waiting for them. His kids are in the bath, Nate sitting in a little bath seat attached to the side of the tub while Cooper dutifully sits beside him and Lila splashes her toys for the baby to see. Clint eases Natasha down against the wall, and lets her curl her knees to her chest. 

“Who’s ready for ice cream?” Clint asks. Cooper and Lila shriek, and splash their way out of the tub. Clint wraps their little bodies in big towels, and declares a race to the kitchen. As his two oldest children race out of the room, he kisses Laura on the head and follows them. 

Laura waits until the door shuts, and then carefully shimmies out of her shirt. She kicks off her shoes, always keeping one hand on the baby, and then slides out of her pants. She’s not sure if undressing in front of Natasha is the best idea, but it’s how she bathes her baby. 

Naked, Laura climbs into the tub and eases Nate out of his bath seat. The water isn’t deep, and he comes to rest between her knees as she holds him, and gurgles happily as he splashes his pudgy little hands on the surface. Laura laughs, and looks over to Natasha. She is looking away, biting her lip hard. Laura refocuses on her baby, and bounces him up and down. 

“Now then, baby,” she murmurs, smiling at him as he splashes excitedly, “let’s get you clean.” 

She starts to hum the same song she’s been singing to all of her kids since they were babies. Her mom sang it to her as a kid. The simple words always bring back memories of warm water and laughter, toys and bubbles. 

“_Can you wash your ha-air?”_, Laura sings, scooping Nate into her lap. She gathers a little water in her hand and lets it pour over Nate’s little head. The baby laughs.

_“I can wash my ha-air,_” she continues. 

_“Can you wash your fe-eet?” _She grabs a little foot. Nate shrieks happily. _“I can wash my fe-eet.” _

She sees Natasha turn back to them out of the corner of her eyes. Laura can only wait until the warmth and safety of the room brings Natasha back. What to do then, she’s not sure, so she keeps washing her baby boy.

_“Can you wash your fa-ace? I can wash my fa-ace.” _

Natasha shuffles closer to the bath, watching Nate as Laura bounces him up and down in the water. He’s so reliably adorable. Even on her worst days, Nat can’t resist watching his little face. Laura knows the feeling. 

_“Can you wash your kne-ees? I can wash my kne-ees.”_

Natasha’s fingers trail in the warm water, and Laura has to stop herself from reaching out. Natasha will come to her when she’s ready. 

_“Thi-is is the way we take a bath.”_

Laura keeps washing, keeps singing, slightly off key, feeling the gentle weight of her baby on her lap. By the time Clint opens the door, she’s all the way to Nate’s nose, and Natasha has taken off her jacket and her shoes and is helping cradle the baby’s head in the water. Clint smiles, and Laura lifts Nate out of the water. He grizzles, but soon Clint has him wrapped up in a towel and he settles down. Clint waits for Laura to get out of the water, but she just turns on the hot tap, and he takes it as his signal to take the baby and go. He does, and Natasha watches forlornly as he carries her adoptive nephew out of the room.

“Come on,” Laura says. It’s gentle, but it still startles her. She looks at Laura, cuttingly suspicious, but there she is, Clint’s wife, her friend, sitting naked in a warm bath, holding out her arms. Natasha stands, and for a moment neither of them are sure if she’s going to stay. Slowly, she takes off her pants, then her shirt, then her underwear. Naked, Laura can see all the marks covering her, the dirt ground into her skin where her different pieces of clothing met, the dried blood and the less dried blood. Natasha climbs into the bath and sits. 

Laura turns off the tap and waits for her to speak, but she just looks at Laura’s legs. It takes a few moments for her to guess what Natasha wants, but when she does, she opens her knees so Natasha can turn around and slide over. She presses her back against Laura’s chest, and Laura holds her in the heating water. She smells like gunpowder and blood. Laura reaches for the little water scoop she often has to confiscate from Cooper when he pours water over his sister. She begins to pour hot water through Natasha’s hair, getting it nice and wet. Natasha leans back into her, silent. 

_“Can you wash your ha-air?” _Laura sings again, gently massaging shampoo into Natasha’s red locks. “_I can wash my ha-air… can you wash your ha-air?”_

Natasha doesn’t join in, so Laura keeps singing the line until she’s sure she’s got all the blood and dirt out of Natasha’s hair, then eases her down into the water so she can rinse out the shampoo. 

_“Can you wash your a-arms?” _Laura coos, as she runs a rosewater-scented soap bar up Natasha’s arm to her shoulders. 

“I can wash my arms,” Natasha whispers. Laura smiles. Natasha makes no move to take the soap from her, so Laura washes her arms. 

“_Can you wash your tum-my?” _Laura sings, moving the soap down over Natasha’s navel. Her touch is firm, and she can feel that Natasha trusts her. The woman makes a half-hearted noise at the juvenile word, and Laura’s not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob. 

“I can wash my… my tummy,” Natasha responds. Her voice is a little clearer this time. 

_“Can you wash your fa-ace?” _Laura sings, and swivels Natasha slightly so the woman’s head is resting on her shoulder. She’s cradling Natasha in the water the same way she cradles Nate, and Natasha closes her eyes, letting Laura wash the grime and blood from her face. 

Before too long, she is clean. Natasha clearly doesn’t want to leave the bath, so Laura just drains some of the water and puts the hot tap back on, hoping the worst of the dirt and blood will wash down the drain. She holds Natasha, still curled against her like a baby, and strokes her wet curls. 

“Thank you,” Natasha whispers against her collarbone. 

“You’re okay,” Laura soothes, the same thing she says to Nate when he’s fussing. “I’ve got you.” 

Natasha squeezes her eyes shut, and she starts to cry. Laura just slides them down so only their heads are above the warm water, and wraps her up in a tight embrace. Natasha cries until the water starts to cool, and Laura helps her stand on shaky legs and step out of the tub. She drains away the water and wraps Natasha up in a towel, just like Clint wrapped up the kids, and it’s almost like Natasha is one of them, Laura thinks, only it’s a thousand times more complicated and there are histories and feelings that make the comparison difficult, but looking at Natasha, tired and wrapped up in a fluffy towel, it’s hard for Laura not to feel maternal.

“You okay?” she murmurs. Natasha nods, but when Laura goes to leave the bathroom first, she feels Natasha’s hand grab her elbow. She stops, and then starts again, letting Natasha hang onto her as they walk towards the bedroom. 

Clint is sitting up in bed, reading. Natasha lets Laura pull a shirt over her head, and steps into a pair of sweatpants. She crawls up the bed and rests on Clint’s shoulder. Laura smiles at the sight, and the look of relief on Clint’s face makes it even better. Laura puts on her pyjamas, and settles in beside the pair of them. Natasha rolls to her, and Laura snuggles down into bed, her arms around Natasha. Clint turns off the lights and rolls in, embracing her from behind. 

Natasha falls asleep wrapped up in the arms of the two people she loves and trusts most in the whole world. For just a little while, everything is clear, warm, clean. She dreams of bubbles and laughter, and everything is a little more okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work also appears on flyingblackhawk's Tumblr. See flyingblackhawk.tumblr.com/ficlist for over 400 Marvel fics!


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